


Let Loose

by Art3misiA



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, F/F, Flash Fiction, Humour, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26595007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA
Summary: Hermione is always in control. But does she really need to be?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35
Collections: Trope Mashup Comp





	Let Loose

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Trope_Mashup_Flash_Fic_Comp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Trope_Mashup_Flash_Fic_Comp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Bet + Ministry Event
> 
> Thank you to my beta, who remains anonymous for now!

“Right, who wants another round of shots?”

A volley of cheers and table thumps met Ginny’s suggestion. Grinning, she headed over to the bar to order, returning several minutes later bearing a tray laden down with small glasses. “Jager,” she explained, handing the drinks out to the assembled group.

When she reached across the table to place a glass in front of Hermione, the curly-haired witch shook her head and pushed it away. “Not for me, Gin.”

“Aw, come on, Hermione,” Ginny cajoled. “It’s only one.”

“It’s  _ not _ only one! I’ve already had a shot tonight, as well as two gin and tonics. I’m switching to water, but you guys go ahead.”

“Jus’ let loose f’once, ‘Mione,” Ron slurred, swaying slightly on his stool.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed,  bobbing his head so enthusiastically he almost fell off his. Gripping the table tightly to regain his balance, he continued, “You can never just relax, Hermione. You’re always worried about something.”

“I’m  _ not  _ always worried about something! I just don’t see the need to get falling-down drunk like you lot.” She  nodded in Harry and Ron’s direction, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

A pale hand darted out and picked up the shot glass. “I’ve got you, Granger,” Pansy said with a wink. She raised it in a salute before knocking it back, causing everyone around her to quickly follow suit with their own drinks.

“But there’s still one left,” said Seamus. “Who’s going to drink that?” He indicated the last lonely shot glass sitting in front of Pansy. 

“That’d be me.” Draco snatched it up, narrowly beating Harry to it. “So much for Seeker reflexes. You’ve gone soft, Potter.”

“I  _ haven’t _ . I just wasn’t ready!” Harry insisted. “I can still beat your ferrety arse any time!”

“Wanna bet?”

Harry squinted at Draco in a way that Hermione supposed he intended to look intimidating, but in his drunken state, it just made him look constipated. She tried, and failed, to suppress a snigger.

Her bespectacled friend rounded on her with an affronted expression. “I  _ can  _ beat him. In fact, I’ll prove it right now!" Turning back to Draco, he continued, "I challenge you to a match, Malfoy! First one to catch the Snitch wins!”

“In case you forgot, Harry, we’re at a Muggle pub,” Hermione pointed out. “There’s nowhere to play Quidditch. And it’s  _ dark.”  _

“Come on, Granger. You know that’s no problem,” Draco drawled. “We can go back to the Manor. I’ve got a whole shed full of brooms. You can play too, if you’d like.”

“Ha, ha,” Hermione said sarcastically. He knew full well she didn’t fly! “How do you plan to get everyone back to the Manor without multiple splinchings occurring?”

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but after a moment his face fell as he realised she was right. They were in no state to Apparate safely.

“We’ll go to the Leaky and use the Floo,” Neville suggested.

“That’s half an hour away by cab,” she countered. 

“Looks like Granger saved your arse again, Potter,” Draco sniped. “Seems like she gets you out of trouble every other week. You should start paying her.”

“Oh, stop it, Draco,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. Turning to Harry, who looked like he wanted to argue, she fixed him with a glare that made him look down at the sticky table, cowed.

Soon after, Hermione decided to call it a night. She gathered up her things and made her way around the table, saying goodbye to her friends. 

“I’ll head off, too,” Pansy decided. “Wait for me, Granger.” She made the same circuit Hermione had a moment earlier, then linked their arms together. Her gentle touch did funny things to Hermione’s insides that she wasn’t sure could be blamed on the alcohol. They headed out into the night, Pansy leading, and strolled down the street to find a cab.

“You know, Granger… Weasel and Potter aren't entirely wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked, pulling her arm free of Pansy’s and turning to face her.

“You don’t take risks. You cling to control like it’s the only thing stopping you from drowning. It’s not healthy, Hermione. You can’t control every aspect of your life all the time.”

“I don’t—”

“You  _ do!”  _

“I can let go! I just—don’t  _ want  _ to.” She folded her arms defensively across her chest and started off into the distance.

“I have a challenge for you.”

“What kind of challenge?” Hermione stared at Pansy suspiciously. She had a bad feeling about this.

“At the Ministry Gala next weekend, I’m going to dare you to do something. Don’t ask what it is, because I haven’t thought that far ahead, yet. And  _ don’t  _ nag me to tell you before, because even if I do decide what it’ll be, I won’t tell you. But I want you to at least consider taking it.”

Hermione tried to think of something to say, but the refusal stuck in her throat. As much as she hated to admit it, she  _ did  _ avoid taking risks, and always felt most in control when she was… well, in control.

“Take the risk, Granger.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat and trying to ignore the fluttering of fear — or was it anticipation? — in her stomach, she nodded. “All right. But nothing too outlandish! Start me off small,” she pleaded.

“Done,” Pansy agreed.

“And I get right of refusal!” Hermione added. She saw the bright top light of a cab approaching, and waved it down.

“Yes, yes,” Pansy grumbled good naturedly as they clambered in.

  
The following weekend, Hermione looked around anxiously, barely able to concentrate on what the old wizard beside her was saying. She had been waiting all evening for Pansy to show up and issue the dare, and the anticipation and fear of the unknown was doing her head in. Consequently, she had imbibed somewhat more liberally than she normally did at such events, and was feeling rather tipsy.

Finally, Pansy appeared at her elbow, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I’m so sorry, Mr Williams. I must steal Miss Granger away,” she said to the wizard, before clutching Hermione’s hand and pulling her through the crowd. The feel of Pansy’s warm hand in hers made her feel lightheaded and strangely nervous.

They weaved through the crowd, making their way to the edge of the dancefloor. Pansy raised her arm to wave at the DJ, who gave her a grin and pushed a button on his machine. Moments later, a fast, sexy beat was pumping through the sound system. People whooped and swarmed onto the previously half-empty space, until it was packed with teeming bodies.

“Time for your dare,” Pansy shouted over the noise. “I bet you can't do a table dance.” She indicated a nearby empty table to emphasise.

“I—I’m not—I don't know if I—!” Hermione stuttered.

“You can!” Pansy urged.

“Well—” Hermione looked at Pansy, then the table. A passing elf was carrying glasses of champagne on a tray and she snatched one up, downing it quickly. It sent a blooming spread of warmth through her and boosted her resolve. Nodding and taking a deep breath, she pulled her wand from its holster and cast a strong sticking charm to prevent the table from tipping. 

Kicking off her heels, she gathered the hem of her dress in one hand, boosted herself onto the table, and stood. The song changed to Lady Marmalade - incidentally, one of her favourite songs.  _ I can’t believe the Ministry let a half-blood DJ play Muggle music at an event, and got the equipment to work in here!  _ Hermione marvelled to herself.

Determinedly  _ not _ looking at the crowd, she began to dance, moving slowly at first, subtly swaying her hips. But the song quickly swept her up and she forgot where she was, lost in the beat. She dipped and swayed, rolled her hips and turned in a slow circle, unmindful of the cheers and catcalls from the crowd at first. The sound gradually reached her ears and she realised with a jolt they were reacting to her. She almost stopped, and probably would have, if not for Pansy suddenly appearing beside her.

Laughing in embarrassment, Hermione grabbed Pansy’s hands and pulled her close, letting their bodies sway in tandem. She stared into the other witch’s dark eyes and felt heat pooling in her lower belly.

“I have a bet for you, Parkinson,” she said.

“Oh yeah? What?” 

“I bet you won’t kiss me in front of all these people.”

Pansy grinned lasciviously. “Bet you I will.” She tilted her head forward until her lips met Hermione’s.

Hermione’s heart began to beat faster as she finally felt herself let go, the thrill of taking a risk and following her hidden desire making her adrenaline spike — but in a decidedly good way. 

_ Maybe giving up control isn’t so bad,  _ she thought, as she melted into the kiss.

  
  
  
  



End file.
